Big Brother 2: The Second Wanderer
by Mask of Two Sides
Summary: Time came and went, but now he walks the land once more in search of the fragments from his past. But many dangers lie in his path as he looks for the thing that changed his life. Sequel to Big Brother: The First Protector.
1. A Hidden Face

As the storm raged outside, the people of Goodsprings wondered when it was going to end. Inside the Prospector Saloon, Trudy was serving those who were forced to stay. Sunny Smiles was also inside playing with her dog, Cheyenne. They were by the pool tables, so they were the only ones to notice the shadow the large figure who passed by the window. A gust of wind and sand blew in as a stranger walked entered.

He was a tall one, standing over six feet at his shoulder. But because he was hunched over a bit, he could have easily been over seven. He wore a trenchcoat as big as him that looked to be patched together from several heavy coats. His helmet looked to be made from pieces of pounded metal that had a slotted visor that covered the upper part of his face. The lower part of his face was wrapped in bandages, ensuring that nobody could see what he looked like.

The stranger shook himself off and looked at Sunny and Cheyenne, who didn't know what to make of him. He ignored the growling dog and walked over to the bar. He took out a number of bottle caps and ordered some moonshine. Trudy handed one over and took his caps in exchange. The stranger gulped it down, straight from the jug. Trudy passed him another moonshine when he handed over some more caps.

"So, what's a traveler like yourself doing out in a town like Goodsprings?"

The stranger put his drink down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, "Looking." His voice was like a low groan or a growl. From the way he was breathing, it must have been difficult for him to talk.

"What are you looking for?"

The stranger pulled out a small box, inside he revealed a glowing fragment of some kind. Trudy didn't know what to make of it. She had seen many things out in the Wastelands, but never anything like this. The bright green glow it gave off reminded her of something radioactive. There was a clicking sound going off, meaning this man had a Pipboy that was detecting radiation. The stranger closed it when he noticed the look of concern in her eyes.

"It's safe, but never touch." That last part wasn't so reassuring to hear.

"I've never seen anything like that before in my life."

"I have," came a voice.

Trudy turned to Sunny Smiles, who had been watching them, "You've seen something like this?"

"Yep, not too long ago I seen a man come through with a rock the size of my fist. He had it wrapped in cloth but the glow was still coming through."

The stranger got up and revealed a Pipboy from under his sleeve, "Where?"

"He was going down to the NCR Correctional Facility."

"But I thought that place was abandoned after their leader was taken out, wasn't it?" Trudy asked.

"That's what I heard, but a few merchants passing through said they've seen some strange things happening there."

"I have to go." The stranger got up and was about to leave when Sunny stepped out in front of him.

"Hey, you only just got here, and the sand storm isn't letting up any time soon. They don't happen often, but it's easy to get turned around in them. And there are still the geckos and the like out there to deal with."

The stranger thought it over for a bit and said, "Alright." He sat himself down against the wall closest to the door. Cheyenne was still growling, but Sunny waved her off before sitting next to him.

"You're not afraid." It wasn't a question, but a statement of something only obvious to her.

"My daddy was a big guy, just like you. Course, it could have just been because I was just a little girl then."

The man shifted his helmet, "What happened?"

Sunny looked up at the ceiling, "Raiders came to our settlement when I was fourteen. There was a terrible fight. But my daddy wasn't one to quit and took out several of them with just his knife." The woman removed a combat knife from her boot. "But during all the fighting, he didn't know that one of them had put a bullet in his gut until they were ran off. He fought so damned hard that he didn't even know that one of them had killed him."

"Sorry to hear."

Sunny shook her head, "It's alright, at least nowadays. I've still got Cheyenne and Goodsprings."

He nodded his head and did his best to say, "Good to have family."

"Do you have any family? Oh, hold on, here I am asking about family and I don't even know your name."

"Patrick Drake."

"Well, I'm Sunny Smiles. Don't laugh now, my daddy was called Big by my grandma."

"Big Smiles. Must've been big. Big like me. To have that name." He had to stop with every few words and take a short breath. He even started to sound like he was having trouble breathing.

"Maybe not as big as you. But like I said, it could have just been because I was smaller than him. You got any family?"

"Long time ago. They're gone now." He spoke with a tired tone in his voice.

"What happened?" Sunny asked. Cheyenne walked up to her owner and put her head on the woman's lap. She was still watching Patrick, but she wasn't growling anymore.

"Time...war. Don't know if any lef-" he suddenly coughed and rubbed his throat.

"Thirsty?" Sunny got up and went to the bar. "Hey, Trudy, can you get me some water? You can put it on my tab."

"Alright, but why so generous now? You don't even know him."

The woman shrugged, "I don't really know, I just feel like I know him somehow. He reminds me of my daddy."

"Be sure to watch yourself if he proves to be trouble. I'd hate to see what kind of damage someone of his size can do."

"I will. But I don't think he'll try anything." Sunny took the water and sat herself by Patrick's side again. "Here, this should help."

He gulped it down and cleared his throat, "Thank you." He sighed and continued, "Looking for their family. If any live."

Sunny scratched Cheyenne's ears, "Well, I hope you find them. I know what its like losing your family, which is why I defend this one." She pointed over to Trudy.

"Family is good. Good company."

"You don't got any company?" Sunny asked.

"Once, long ago. But they died."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to Cheyenne." The dog wagged her tail after hearing her name. She didn't seem to care about Patrick anymore since he wasn't doing anything besides just sitting there. Even when he raised his hand to shift his helmet again, she didn't react.

"Don't worry. It was...their time."

"You sure about that?" Sunny asked. She didn't know why, but she was just full of questions.

"I'm sure. Lives were ruined. I brought release."

"You...killed them?"

Patrick shook his head, "No. Their minds were lost. Long ago. I ended the pain. Mine too. But I woke up. I shouldn't be here. Stones too. So I look. Look for stones." He pulled out the box again. "These dangerous. Shouldn't exist. I shouldn't exist. Not anymore."

"Hey, how could you say that? Everyone has a right to exist."

"My time over. Long ago."

"How old are you?"

Patrick was about to answer when a Bighorner, a ram the size of a rhino, burst through the wall. It didn't do so of it's own volition, as someone had just hurled it through. The sandstorm blew inside, spreading sand everywhere. Cheyenne charged outside and yelped as she flew back in. Time slowed for Sunny as the dog, her best friend, bounced off the floor and didn't get up.

"Cheyenne! You bastard!"

Patrick stopped Sunny from charging out into the storm for her revenge and said, "Tend to dog! I will go!" With that, he ran outside and was promptly punched in the face by a large fist. His helmet wasn't even dented as he took the attack. Then he grabbed on and pulled the intruder back into the storm.

There were sounds like a hammer on metal as the two pounded at each other. Sunny was watching as bolts of electricity danced around the two fighters while she held Cheyenne in her arms. With each blow there was a flash and another bolt sparked to life. She couldn't see what was happening, but she could see just where the punches were landing. Then it happened.

A great flash of green energy exploded and almost seemed to shatter the storm for a split second. All Sunny could see was Patrick at the ending moments of his punch. It was as if his fist was manifesting a green flame. Then the two dissapeared again as the storm washed over them.

It was only two minutes later when the storm started to slow and faded altogether. To Sunny's surprise, the strange man was almost as big as Patrick. He bent down and removed what looked like a glowing fragment from the man's pocket and put it along with the one he already had. Then he dropped to one knee.

"Patrick!" Sunny wanted to see to him but she had to take care of Cheyenne.

"I'm alright." He removed something from his pocket, "Use this." He tossed her a stimpack.

Sunny nodded and injected the dog with the emergency medicine. As the chemicals went to work dulling the pain, the dog opened her eyes and waged her tail a bit. She wimpered, but that was to be expected.

"Silly dog, you shouldn't ever run off like that." Cheyenne waged her tail again and Sunny couldn't help but smile. Her friend was alright, but how did Patrick know that she would be alright with a stimpack?

"Dog alright?"

"Ya, but how did you know?"

Patrick sat himself down with a heavy thud, "Experience. Had dog pack. Long time ago." He coughed and wheezed.

Trudy came out from the bar and handed him some water, "Here, it's on the house. After what you did for us, it's the least I can do."

He nodded his head in thanks and gulped it down.

"So, what now?" Sunny asked.

"Have to look. Always look." He got up and dusted himself off. It was at that moment that the two saw his hand.

It was covered in glass. The flames had been so intense that he had melted sand into glass. Before either of them could say anything, he turned and left them. They weren't sure if he would ever return, but they knew that there was no way they could stop him. But they were surprised by the sack of caps that he had left behind.

Once Patrick was out of sight of the town, he smashed the glass off his hand, tearing away his patch-work glove. Underneath, the flesh of his hand was withered, almost to the bone. He had been searching for nearly two centuries now. He only had half of all the stones collected now, but he couldn't stop.

Before he got moving again, he looked back and sighed. Sunny had reminded him of the one he had to let go, oh so many years ago. She would be long dead now, she would have died during the passage of time. Though, in his mind, she would stay as young as she was the last day he saw her.

Her memory was the one thing that kept his legs moving. He had to find the stones before they caused any more damage. Today alone was just a small sample of the destruction just one could bring. And there was a man out there with a stone as big as a person's fist. A stone that big could cause a lot of damage.

And so he let his legs do the walking, for they always knew where he needed to go next.


	2. An Old Name

As Patrick stood in front of the old NCR Correctional Facilities, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Unfortunately, he had little idea of what it once was, other than the fact that the New California Republic once controlled it. Now it was nothing more than another bunch of ruins. There was a portion of the fence that was blown open, but other than that, it was nothing special.

It was abandoned, but why would they ever leave? Locations like these were good places to find safety and protection from the elements. He knew it wasn't because of the wild dogs in the area. They all scattered as soon as they caught his scent, knowing full well that he wasn't one any animal they could handle. But for humans to leave it like this; there had to be a reason. He took a look around and found that part of the fence had been blown apart. It must have happened some time ago because there weren't many traces left of the blast. But he did find prints left in the sand, several of them. He was too slow to notice gecko in time before it bit his leg.

The situation turned dire for it when he reached down, grabbed it by its little head, and hurled it over the fence on the other side. Patrick checked his leg before he walked around the area, looking for any evidence of a fragment being here. He checked inside the prison cells first, as they were good places to hide from wild animals. All he found in the first cell block was an empty package of Mentats, meaning someone had alread picked it clean.

But when he came across a locked cell in the other block, he grabbed the aging bars and ripped the door off its hinges. Inside he found a fair number of caps and plans for an explosive device. He stuffed it into his pocket along with some more scrap metal. After years of wandering the wastes, he had a number of uses for them.

He was searching through the pile of junk he gathered when he thought he heard something. At first he thought it was the wind, but years of survival experience told him otherwise. He immediately ran for the door and looked outside. He thought he heard a person, but there wasn't anything here. But why could he hear laughter?

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flash of color racing for one of the watch towers. It was already gone when he looked, but he wasn't about to just stand around. He charged after it like there was no tomorrow; his life as a protector never left him. Old instincts were driving his actions now.

He almost leaped up the walkway when he saw it, a flash of blue. He charged up, but it kept ahead of him before simply dissapearing from sight. It was there that he found it, a green fragment. He didn't care about that at the moment, he needed to know what he had seen. Where was it? While he was searching, he saw a flash of red and was blown from the tower as it was blown apart by an invisible force. He hit the ground hard and was knocked unconcious.

Darkness, it was the only thing he knew in the past. He would wander through it hoping to find the treasures it held. But now it seemed that it would claim him for its own now.

_"It's time to wake up sleepyhead..."_

Patrick's eyes snapped open and he looked around, hoping to discover the source of the voice. But it had to have been all in his head because he was alone. The buildings had all collapsed and a nest of geckos were running away in a panic. But there was one in particular that took an interest in the glowing fragment sitting on the ground. Patrick tried to get up, but his body wasn't responding. No, not now, don't do this now!

The gecko sniffed at the glowing piece and swallowed it, only to begin screaming as its body went through a rapid expansion. Muscle and bone ripped and snapped to make room for the new growth while its skin was tore open, only for it to regrow in seconds. Blood was dripping from its eyes as the vessels burst and were forced to regenerate. It's sky-blue scales were replaced by a dark shade of green and its eyes glowed with a strange light.

Once the changes were done and it stopped screaming, it stood taller than even Patrick. Its body was sleeker, muscular, and its claws and fangs were much longer and much deadlier now. What was once just a lowly gecko now stood something with power equal to that of a deathclaw.

The gecko mutant hissed as it realized that it wasn't alone and was hungry after its new growth. It charged into Patrick, sinking its teeth into his arm, sending pain up through his whole side as it tried to twist it off. Patrick jabbed his fingers into its eyes, allowing him to force it off and punched it with enough force to nearly pop its eyes out of it's head. It stumbled back, dazed by the blow. What was strange was how its skull hadn't collapsed into itself as a result of the attack; it almost seemed to bounce back. There was a loud 'pop' as the bone reset. That wasn't good.

He swatted at its attempt to claw him, trying to keep the six-inch talons from tearing into his flest, and jammed his fist into its chest. His hand dug deep into its flesh, but the thing bounced off and rolled across the ground. Once it was on its feet again, its ribs popped back into place as if nothing happened. As it snapped its enlarged jaws at him, he took a step back and pounded at it with a powerful uppercut. The blow had enough force to rip off a raider's head, but the oversized gecko was merely knocked back a few feet. It shook itself off and hissed before it tackled him; he and it were sent to the ground and both scrambled to be the one to strike the next blow.

The gecko mutant got up first, but Patrick slammed his fists into its gut in a one-two combo. He ended it with an uppercut that dislocated its jaw. He blocked its arm as it swung madly from the pain and snapped it in two places. The bones tried to heal but he held it for as long as it took for the arm to become fixed at an angle. With the use of its arm limitied, the gecko mutant twisted its head and chomped down on his. He could feel its fangs dig into his face, but the way its jaw had healed prevented it from getting a better bite. It gnawed at his helmet and clawed at his back with its good arm while he held on.

Patrick didn't panic and pulled out Little Bertha, a heavy, sawed-off, double-barrel shotgun, from his coat to pry the gecko mutant off with. With one pull of the trigger, a pair of 25mm timed grenades were shot down its throat and knocked it flat on its back. Patrick hit the dirt as the creature's upper body exploded, showering the area with bits of gecko meat. Among the mess was the fragment, seemingly untouched by the creature's stomach acids and the explosion.

Once it was with the others, Patrick dusted himself off and soon left the area. This much excitement was bound to attract something. But as he left, his thoughts turned to what he had seen. There was only one reason he ever reacted like that, but that time was long gone. The nukes saw to that over two hundred years ago.

He wandered the area for a bit, picking various fruits from the local cacti. This was how he lived, it was all he knew how to survive. All he had these days was the sun at his back and the sand under his feet. He didn't need anything from people beyond what little food, water, and what bits of metal he could not obtain himself. He has lived alone for so long that the company of others did not give him any comfort. As long as the green fragments shined their light on any who could not resist their energies, he could never rest. He came into this world destined to fade away after completing his mission.

Then one day he woke from his slumber confused and alone, utterly shocked by the world he returned to. The skies were choked with dust and the land glowed with a strange energy he had never seen before. Somehow, as if fate decided he had not paid his dept, he had survived the catastrophy that destroyed the world. Not only that, but it left him changed.

After coming across the remains of what looked like a camp, Patrick decided it was a good idea to sit down and rest. He was forced to wander the wastes because of the green fragments, which possessed the energy that made him.

The day he discovered them, the realization only added to his pain; he had failed in his quest and all had been for nothing. He thought he could save the world; he thought he could save those he was forced to leave behind. All the battles he fought; the love he rekindled in one he thought lost once before; all the pain he suffered to protect all he held dear; it was for nothing.

There was nothing left besides him and these fragments. So he wandered the land for over a century. All he could do was honor his memory of them by gathering all the fragments. This world should not have to suffer for sins of the past. Many souls were lost when the fragments were once whole; bck when their power unleashed chaos and madness upon a whole civilization. But now that they were seperated, they had to be found and brought back. Maybe, just maybe, he could sleep again after all the fragments were collected and removed from this world.

But right now, he had to start searching for the one who was spreading them. This was twice that he found fragments after an unknown figure passed. Whoever this person was, they were infecting anyone unfortunate to cross their path. He had to hurry and catch up or else risk another person or animal becoming infected. If this could happen to a gecko, who knows what other horrors could be unleashed.

"Howdy friend, I'm guessing that explosion was you?"

Patrick looked around until he spotted Dan wearing his usual longcoat and cowboy hat. Unlike most ghouls, this one had his face wrapped in bandages. Seventy years ago, Patrick came across him fighting off a bunch of fire geckos. It was unfortunate that he couldn't save what was left of the ghoul's crusty dead skin. Ever since then, the two would meet one in awhile.

"Still searching. Found one."

The ghoul walked past him to take a look down at what was left of the prison. He whistled, which was a surprise considering the condition of his lips. "Well, now I can see what all the ruckus was about."

"Big gecko."

"I'll bet if this is what it took to take it out. One of them there fragments I'm guessing?"

Patrick nodded and added, "Something strange happened. Seen something familiar. But can't remember."

"What did it look like?" Dan asked.

He only shook his head and shrugged his large shoulders, "Not sure. Too much time."

"I know that feeling. I can't remember the faces of my grandchildren." The ghoul slipped off his rucksack and pulled out a bottle of whisky, "Well, drink up. You look like you're about to fall over and crush the nearest town."

Patrick just stood there, wondering what he was going on about. Then he realized that Dan wasn't about to notice the difference since he always stands like this. He took the bottle and guzzled it down without once coming up for air.

He tossed Dan the empty bottle and said, "Another."

"Alright, but don't go drinking my whole supply now. I still need a few for myself to keep me going. At least until the next town."

"Don't get drunk."

"After all these years, you think I'll drink _that_ much again?"

"Not first time." Patrick took the second bottle and downed it as fast as the first. Then he pulled the large gecko fang that was sticking out of the side of his helmet. He stuck it in his pocket and started walking towards the next town. His map said it was a place called Primm. He let his feet take him where he wanted to go, leaving Dan on his own like he had so many times before. The ghoul didn't mind since he had places he wanted to go and stock up on whisky and moonshine.

It wasn't a long walk before Patrick came across Primm. There were a few bloatflies and a few of the geckos that ran off, but other than that, things were safe. Things were quiet in the town as well, with only a few men wandering around. He made sure to wait until someone came around to ask his business before wandering inside.

He looked around and asked the townspeople if they seen anything, but they didn't see anything. But there was one man who thought he saw someone. His name was Beagle, the old deputy to Primm, before he was replaced. He was happily married now and knew that his days working for the law were done.

"Ya, I seen someone last night. They were moving real fast out towards New Nipton."

Patrick nodded in thanks and started walking out when someone came running into town. He would have left them to search out the sheriff if the man wasn't screaming about a large nightstalker. The man had to jump out of the way when Patrick charged past. The nightstalkers behind him found out the hard way that he really didn't like abominations. The first two got stamped out while the third was grabbed by the face and used to stop the last one dead in its tracks. He tore off the tail of the third for a snack and tossed it aside so he could run for New Nipton. He already had the place mapped out on his Pipboy, a gift from another wanderer like him.

"Help!"

Patrick leaped the fence and a nightstalker met the bottom of his boot while another one met the other foot. If he had a third, he could have prevented the next one from clamping down on the back of his head.

"Now I know they make good hats, but fucking help me out here!"

"Where are you?" he called before another nightstalker came crashing down from the roof of the town hall. That was handy, "Jump!"

"Are you bloody fucking kidding me? Are you that stupid or did too many radscorpions pierce that thick stull of yours?"

"I'll catch you!"

"Fuck that, either you're coming up here or these bastards are going down there! And away you go!" There was a yelp and another nightstalker came flying over the edge and was dead on impact.

Things just couldn't be easy, now could they? He charged the front door and was greeted by a group of nightstalkers tearing into what was left of the townspeople. They dropped their pieces of human flesh and came running, hoping to take down this new prey item. Now, normally he could have punched, kicked, and just utterly curbstomped them due to his size, strength, agility, and raw unstoppable power. He just pulled out Little Bertha and blew the nightstalkers to pieces. He got nightstalker all over his coat, but it was better than the alternative. He shook himself off and made his way to the roof.

At the stairs, a nightstalker leaped out and sank its fangs into his arm as he blocked it. He wrapped his fingers around its neck and squeezed, breaking its spine with ease. Two more nightstalkers came running out to take revenge for their fallen comprads. Patrick turned on one foot while bending over, ducking under both of them as they leaped into the air. There was a flash of steel and a pair of throwing axes were sticking out of their heads as soon as they could look back.

Then he heard a scream and knew he wasn't going to make it in time. He bent his legs and sent himself through the ceiling. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough and he found another ceiling hanging above him. He struggled to get up and jumped again, this time finding the roof. There was a lone woman fighting off a nightstalker with her fire axe. It was agile for its size, which was comparable with a rhino, and didn't seem fazed when she planted her axe in its skull. In fact, the flesh almost seemed to grab hold of it as it regenerated. It flicked its head and the axe was taken from her.

"Duck for cover!" Patrick fired a pair of 25mm grenades, blowing the creature's rear half apart. But that didn't stop it. It looked back at the one who maimed it and crawled towards him with astounding speed. Its blood painted the floor as it moved and Patrick wasn't able to reload in time as the beast lunged. He had to drop his gun and grabbed it by its face. He ripped the fire axe from its head and sank the blade deep into its skull, splitting it in two and revealing a fragment stuck in its brain. With the fragment removed, the creature stopped struggling and died, its power of regeneration halted.

Patrick was putting the fragment away when the woman came at him with her axe. She swung at the back of his neck, removing the head of the nightstalker who had snagged itself in his helmet. She was bloody, beaten, and looked like she was about to start hacking away at the nearest thing that moved. It was fortunate that there was one last nightstalker that popped its head out of the hole Patrick had made. The woman screamed and charged after it. He could tell she caught it when she had herself one last furious scream.

"You alright?" he asked.

She tried to wipe the blood from her face, but she only succeeded in smearing it. She tried to nod her head, but she was coming down from her adrenaline rush. "I'm fucking dandy."

He pulled a nightstalker tail from his pocket and handed it to her, "Hungry?"

"You have got to be fucking kidding me...but alright." She took it and sank her teeth into it. She devoured it as quickly as humanly possible and downed the bottle of purified water he handed her. "Thanks, I needed that." With that, she fell over.

Patrick wasn't sure as to what to do since all the other townsfolk were probably dead. He picked her up and left for the general store, hoping to find some supplies. Inside he found a lone man sitting at the counter with a shotgun in his hands.

"Alright, hold it right there, I don't want any trouble."

"She needs help."

"Good, I was hoping that I wasn't the only one left. The name's Boxcars. It's difficult enough trying to get around without anyone else around." He put his shotgun away and came out from behind the counter in a wheelchair. "Are they gone?"

"They are dead. You are safe."

"Hey, what's up with your speech?"

"Damage to throat. Can't talk long." Patrick put the girl on a chair and sat down on the floor beside her.

"Well, it looks like history has repeated itself. This isn't the first time this town has been wiped out. A number of years ago, a group calling themselves the Legion came by. They messed up my legs and I've been living here ever since."

"I've seen worse."

"Really, what could have been worse than them?"

"The Master. Created super mutants."

The color faded from the man's face, "Oh, that is bad."

"He's dead now."

"That's good. But I still have to wonder; what caused those nightstalkers to attack us like that?"

"Fragments." Patrick pulled one out of his bag. "Very dangerous."

"Hey, I've seen a glow like that before. There was a person wandering past one night. Then everything went went to hell. I was lucky enough to be locked up in here when it all happened."

"Where they go?"

"Not sure. The only places around here is the path up to Novac and an irradiated town if you keep going that way." He pointed to the nearby cliffs. "Best be careful out there."

"I'm a survivor."

"Alright, you take care now."

Patrick was almost out the door when the woman woke, "Hold it, I'm coming too."

"After what you've been through?" Boxcars rolled himself up beside her. "We were just attacked, I don't think you're quite ready to be leaving just like that."

"Like hell I'm staying. This town is dead, I'm not going to just sit on my ass and fucking wait for someone to come around."

"Alright, at the very least you're going to have to take me with you. I can't defend this town in my condition."

"Is Novac good?" Patrick asked.

"If they have any room for a cripple like me, then it's better than staying here."

"Alright, let's get a fucking move on now."

Boxcars shook his head, "Sara, do you have to keep swearing?"

A memory flickered inside Patrick's head, but it died as quickly as it came. With Sara's help, the two gathered what food, medicine, and other supplies they could from the other houses. With the townsfolk all dead, they wouldn't be needing all this stuff. Once again, Patrick found himself wandering on the road again.

But this time, he couldn't help but think about the woman who shared the name with his beloved sister.


	3. A Strange Glow

After strapping Boxcars' wheelchair to Patrick's back, the trio headed down the east road out of the town. They didn't get too far out when Patrick stopped by a ruined truck to check for salvage. All he found were some empty Sasrsaparilla bottles, a hot plate, and a toaster. Anything of use had already been taken from the Sasraparilla crate, but there was a 10mm pistol in the gun cabinet that lacked the cover of dirt. That revealed that it had been recently added.

"Bandits," he muttered as he handed it off to Sara. Someone was using this spot as storage.

"Great, that's just fucking great. What are we supposed to do about them?"

"Hey, big guy, turn me around." Patrick turned so Boxcars could respond, "We kill them and take their stuff. They would do the same with us."

"Hey, "I'm not getting shot just because you want to get more shit. I'm already holding enough food and junk to last me for a week. Hey, where the fuck are you going?" She fell silent as Patrick pulled out his sawed-off shotgun and fired a 25mm grenade. A few seconds later, pieces of a bandit came flying over the ridge. Patrick fired the other barrel, but was rewarded with a flying tire iron to the forehead. Two dead bandits came rolling down shortly after.

"Problem solved." Unfazed, he startedv picking through anything that survived the blasts. All he found for weapons were a couple of knives, the tire iron that hit him, and a 9mm pistol. He also stripped the bandit of her leather armor and handed it to Sara.

"Hey, if I'm going to be wearing this, you can't be looking. Turn around." Patrick did so, only to have Boxcars facing her. He looked concerned because he knew he was liable to get shot if this situation wasn't dealt with quickly. "Fuck, alright, turn back around and cover your eyes. I had better not find out either of you peeked or I'm going to shoot both of you."

"Alright already, just get it over with." Boxcars replied.

Sara quickly stripped down while Patrick kept his eyes covered by his large hand. She was slow about it because she kept checking on the large figure. But he didn't even make a single movement as he stood there. She would have mistaken him for some kind of odd statue if it wasn't for his coat shifting in the wind. Once she had her new suit of armor on, Patrick started back down the road with her right behind him. It was only leather, so it wasn't going to protect her from bullets all that well, but it was better than the clothing she'd been wearing.

It was also a good thing that the two of them were behind Patrick when his shoulder was hit by a 5.56 rifle round. He barely even flinched when it happened, so the two didn't even know what was happening until they heard the gunshot. Patrick removed his shotgun and fired a round. There was an explosion, but a few seconds later another round hit him.

"Stay back." Patrick put his shotgun away, only to replace it with a large revolver, and took aim. Another shot winged him and Sara cursed as it was just inches from her face. With the attached scope, he found the one shooting him and fired. The shot was quite loud as the .50 calibur round did its magic and blew off the bandit's head and knocked the body over.

"Find cover, Sara!" he ordered while a shocked Boxcars struggled to get free while Patrick ran _towards_ the ones who shot him. Patrick eyes went up and he immietely dived for cover behind a rock after catching sight of an airborn frag grenade. After the explosion, he came up firing away, taking out the remaining bandits before his revolver ran out. He only had five shots to begin with, so his aim was pin-point accurate each time; years of survival made sure of it.

"Take this you freak!" another bandit came up from the nearby camp and aimed a varmint rifle at him. Patrick didn't move until the man shifted his sight; he must have just noticed Sara coming up from behind the large figure. Even for a man of his size, he reacted with astonishing speed.

He put his arm in the path of the bullet while hurling a throwing axe with the other. The bullet stopped in his forearm while the bandit went down hard, his skull split in half. There was so much force behind the throw that only the handle stuck out from between the man's eyes. It wasn't going to be pretty trying to get it back out.

"What the fucking hell?" Sara cried as she ducked for cover. "I thought you got all of them!"

Patrick ignored her and started pulling bullets out with his fingers. There wasn't much blood, but the holes in his coat would need to be patched if he wanted to keep it functional. He broke open his revolver and started loading .50 rounds while he waited for Sara to come out.

"It's safe now."

Sara was shaken but alright. She took her time searching the bodies for useful items while Patrick stripped them of their armor and clothing. In this world, everything was valuable amd it was useless to leave anything. The only thing they left was whatever underclothes the bandits had managed to be wearing at the time. He also handed her the varmint rifle, which he added extra parts to enhance its effectiveness.

He added a nigh vision scope, extended mag, and a silencer to make it a good weapon for picking off targets at a distance. She accepted it with a look of surprise that he had been carrying the parts on him. But it wasn't uncommon for some if they had the caps.

"Take this." Patrick reached behind him to give Boxcars a 9mm submachine gun he found one one of the bodies. If anyone tried to sneak up on them, he could make sure they would pay for it. "Let's go now." Patrick followed the road until he noticed a broken radio tower to his right. Then he realized that there was a small farm a short ways from it, built up on the hill. It didn't look like much and appeared to be abandoned. But it was getting dark now and all sorts of creatures prefered this time to hunt. With Sara in leather armor, Patrick wasn't going to risk her around more nightstalkers.

"It's late. We go inside."

Sara was about to argue otherwise when she heard something howl in the distance. Patrick was right, they needed to get inside the building where it was safer. She kept right behind him while watcing the horizon for any signs of movement. Nightstalkers were quick on their feet and hunted in packs. They could also cause a lot of damage in a short time to the weak and unwary. this was how most of New Nipton were killed. It wasn't the giant nightstalker, but all of its followers who swarmed the townspeople.

While Patrick started searching the maize field, Sara filled up their empty bottles with water from a basin attached to a well. When Patrick couldn't find anything, he came around to check it out. His Pipboy started clicking to show radioactivity; dirty water. It was better than nothing and they could always trade for some packs of Radaway and Rad-X pills for Sara and Boxcars.

Behind the water basin was a small garden. Most of it was all withered and dead, but Sara found them two coyote tabacco leaves and a small banana yucca fruit. They stashed their finds and went inside the shack as the sun dissapeared and night came.

There wasn't much inside since abandoned locations were usually picked clean rather quickly. But while everything else was gone, they did find an old cleaver on the oven. After setting Boxcars down, Patrick was the first to pick it up and examine it.

"Chopper," he wheezed as he recognized the weapon. "Been some time. My old friend." He sat down to have a drink of water to clear his throat. Sara kneeled down in front of him with a quisitive look on her face. Patrick checked the blade and found that it was still sharp. It was almost puny in his hands, but it was never made for someone like him. He raised it and threw it, the blade imbedding itself in the armor locker. "Same as ever. An old memory," he explained. "Belonged to traveler." He had to struggle because of his throat. "First good friend. In long time."

"What happened to him?" Boxcars asked, but Patrick waved his hand, as if the answer was too much effort. It didn't help that he had to take a break between every three words.

Sara sat down and asked the same, "What happened?"

Patrick looked into her eyes and saw how much experience they carried, "Gave me Chopper. Before he died. Gave right hand. To save me. From super mutants. Chopped it off. To free himself. Died soon after. Not enough blood."

"So he died trying to save you? Fuck, must have had a good reason to give up his life like that." Sara contimplated just what reasons he might have had before meeting his end.

Patrick nodded, "He was old. Not fast enough. Not strong enough." He downed a whole bottle of the dirty water. "But I was. I freed others. Thanks to him. He gave weapon. To honor memory. But it dissapear. Many years later."

"Just how old are you?"

If Patrick could chuckle, he might have actually put in the effort to try, "Before the war. Century before it. Underwater city; Rapture. That my home."

Boxcars wheeled himself over, "You lived underwater? How was that even possible?"

Patrick looked to Sara, who was still watching him with great intent, "Those days different. We do much. We make much. I was protector. Of Little Sisters. It my job. It my duty." He downed another bottle to keep his throat moist. It was difficult to have to talk for so long. But he continued anyways, "But it wrong. City was evil. It all decayed. Fall into madness."

"What happened?" Sara asked. She and Boxcars looked quite interested in what he had to say, so Patrick continued.

"Our leader mad. He lose mind. Because of ADAM."

"Who's Adam?"

Patrick shook his head, "Not who; what. It was substance. Make big changes. Like the fragments. But more controlled. We call plasmids. You throw fire. Or even lighting. All from hands. But cost high. People go crazy." He had to down yet another water to keep speaking. "But I protector. I'd give life. For Little Sister."

"Who are these Little Sisters you mention?"

"They little girls. Turned into harvesters. They harvest ADAM. From the dead." The two recoiled upon realizing what the Little Sisters were used for. "They still girls. They would play. They would laugh. Life was happy. But they crazy. They not see. All the horrors. Their minds changed. So they'd work." Patrick raised his bottle of water to his lips, but decided otherwise and sighed. "I'm tired now. Must get sleep."

Boxcars looked to the bed and to his chair, "Hey, Sara, you can have the bed. I'll stay like this."

Sara only nodded as she left Patrick to sleep against the wall. But she took a moment to retrieve the cleaver and tested the blade. To her surprise, it cut right through the metal and wasn't even chipped. She slipped it under her matress and tried to get to sleep. After all the excitement of the day, she was out like a light.

But for Patrick, sleep didn't come so easily. Remembering the past had driven up old memories of what life used to be like. He remembered the smiling face of his Little Sister, how her glowing eyes would always be his becon in the dark. But the memory of her laughter was what hurt him most. She used to laugh so much because she had him to keep her safe.

He didn't have any fears of her suffering when the nukes fell. She had a family and was a mother the day he found her up on the surface. She would have passed on through old age by the time the end came. But even then, he never knew what happened to her family. What ever happened to her daughter; little Susan? Did she grow up and have a life of her own? Did she get married and have children? If so, did they make it into one of the Vaults in time?

He sighed and watched Sara and Boxcars sleep. Then he heard the nightstalkers howl outside and stepped out to make sure they kept their distance. He knew it was another pack of nightstalkers because this region was their territory. There were many packs here and killing off one wouldn't change that. He made sure he dotted the area with frag mines and left the farm to go have a look around. He walked up the hill and saw buildings in the distance. Even from here, he could feel a strange warmth flow over him.

On his way down, leaving the farm, he came across what looked like another, smaller, farmstead of some kind. But as he approached, he heard the sounds of more bandits. But this group seemed slightly organized, hinting that they were members of a gang. That hardly mattered to him, they were getting in his way.

He didn't even take the time to take out any of his weapons as he dispatched the first two who came in close. He crushed the chest of the first with his fist while the second was picked up and slammed into the ground. He stomped on the man to ensure he wasn't going to get back up again. Without even looking, he threw his fist out and punched a man in the face, smashing in his skull. The man stumbled about before toppling over, dead. After losing half their number in such a swuft manner, the others decided it would be best to simply run off and attack someone else.

Patrick wasn't finished with them yet as he removed three frag grenades from his coat and chucked one with all his might. His aim was true and he beaned one of them on the back of the head. The explosion took her and another out. Patrick removed another pin and got another in the face as they turned around to see what had just happened. The third wasn't so lucky as Patrick heard a howl moments before the man's death cry. He came across a wandering pack of nightstalkers, not something you want to do in the middle of the night. This meant that Patrick could save his last grenade.

After stripping the the bodies of their equipment, he started off again towards the town. The closer he got, the warmer he felt. The remains of a church first caught his eye, so he decided to check it out first. The corner wall had been completely destroyed, so he didn't have to worry about going in through the door. He found several crates, but they were all empty. But there was a cellar door with a sign that said 'storage area'. He entered, only to find a ghoul pointing a rifle at his head.

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"I am friendly."

"Like hell you are. How do I know you're not just a super mutant with a coat?"

"I show you." Patrick slowly removed his helmet and the bandages that covered his face.

It was hard to tell what the ghoul was thinking when reading his face was like looking at an orange peel left out in the sun. "Alright, I've never seen a super mutant as pretty as you." It was hard to tell if that was a compliment or if he was truly that ugly.

"Are you NCR?" Patrick asked when he noticed the armor the ghoul wore.

"Former, as you can see, the radiation turned me into this. I figured I was better off staying since I never did find out what the NCR thinks about ghouls before they all left. Name's Private Edwards."

"Patrick Drake. You live here?"

"I used to live in the house that neighbored this place, but a group of golden geckos ran me out of there a year ago. I can't get them out because I've only got the one clip left. Everything else down here has already been picked and the computer only talks about a shipment of radiation suits. I've got nowhere else to go. And since nobody ever comes here because of the radiation, I'm stuck here with only the things I'm carrying."

"I can help." Patrick wrapped his head back up and put his helmet back on.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. There's a whole pack of them out there."

"I'll be alright." Patrick put a few clips of ammo down on the table before stepping out and heading into the middle of town. He shut off his Pipboy's geiger counter because the high levels of radiation didn't bother him; not even these levels had any effect. The place seemed pretty empty, at least until he chucked a rock through a wall. It wasn't long before over a dozen golden geckos were coming out at the prospect of fresh meat. Some were nearly the size of a full-grown man, but they were still smaller than him. But to them, he was just a bigger piece of meat. The fight would have been over quickly if these were the only things he had to deal with.

As quickly as the first of the geckos could lunge forward, a radscorpion tail burst out of the ground and impaled it. The gecko squeeled as it was lifted off the ground, the stinger poking out through its belly. There was a green flash, like a plasma pulse, and it was launched like living napalm, sent screaming through the air and into another gecko. The two dissolved into green ooze, which was sucked below ground through a hole in the pavement. While the others squeeled their surprise, two more tails appeared and found geckos of their own. These were also launched though the air, setting fires where they landed. Then the radscorpions emerged.

Their shells were blackened with energy burns and there were patches of glass on their shells where molten sand dripped from their glowing stingers and fused onto their bodies. The stingers glowed with plasma energy, supplied by large fragments imbedded in them. Instead of charging right at him like normal radscorpions did, each powered up their tail and fired plasma bolts with deadly accuracy.

The first two missed as he ducked down, but the third washed over his helmet, forcing him to close his eyes. When he opened them, the radscorpions were gone. Then a pair of claws to burst out of the pavement of the road below him and grabbed his legs. By the powerful vibrations he was feeling, they were able to use their claws like jackhammers and drills, breaking through anything in their way. It was only because of his enhanced skeleton that his legs were being turned to dust right now.

But when it's tail burst through and aimed right at the back of his neck, it was likely this shot could be lethal. Patrick reached into his coat and pulled out a super sledge to try and smash one of the radscorpion's claws. But when he struck, there was a loud crack and the weapon's face and the claw shattered. Patrick was forced to drop the ruined weapon and rolled out of the way as it fired a plasma bolt into the air.

The radscorpion screamed in pain, but was trapped under the cement. Before it could try and dig its way out, Patrick grabbed its tail and rammed it into the ground. He used energy that he gathered into his hands and used it to spark the stinger, making it fire a plasma bolt into the ground. The creature's struggles stopped as its body succumbed to a lethal chemical reaction that quickly turned it into a puddle of green goo. All that was left was the fragment, safely settled in Patrick's massive hand.

He quickly put it away as the next radscorpion came out of hiding. It sat there while a melting gecko's head took flight a distance away. When it hit, all that was left was the skull, the melted flesh painting the ground upon impact, but even that was soon melted down into ooze. He had to make sure not to touch it, for it was still hot and could burn right through his heavy clothing.

Patrick was forced to dodge another piece, a gecko's arm. This meant that the other one had been chopping up a gecko for 'ammo' to launch. With the fires building, he tried to take cover from the barrage of molten gecko parts but was stopped by a bolt of plasma. The first had fired a shot where he wanted to go. It was trying to keep him out on the road, where he had nowhere to hide from them.

These radscorpions were using tactics, meaning the fragments were giving them a form of intelligence. How far that could go was going to be proved by this fight. While the first fired more plasma bolts at him, the other stayed out of sight, launching more gecko parts. When another gecko head came down, Patrick figured they must have been harvesting the golden geckos for this purpose.

As the fires spread, Patrick knew he had to find a way to get out of their sight lines. But every time he tried, the radscorpion knew where he was trying to go and cut him off with a shot of hot plasma. After nearly getting his face burned by another bolt, he decided enough was enough and forgot all about going between the buildings. He crossed his arms in front of himself and went _through_ one. Even in its prime, the wood would have never been able to keep him from crashing right through like it was cardboard.

Bursting through the other side, he found two more radscorpions wondering what just happened. After the initial confusion, a blob of molten gecko came down on one of them. As the burning ooze destroyed its eyes, the radscorpion went into a rage. Its tail became super-charged and started to launch plasma in every direction while reaching for something to tear apart with its claws. The second radscorpion was its unfortunate victim as its tail was caught and shredded. It turned and went on a rage of its own while the barrage of gecko parts kept coming. While these two were distracted, Patrick dropped his last frag grenade and left them to their fate, snatching up the remains of the tail as he did. It was fortunate he was leaving because the explosion shot the other radscorpion's stinger into a wall beside his head. He removed the fragments and grunted when a plasma bolt burned his hand.

This was starting to get annoying, and with the town burning, things weren't going well to begin with. Now the radscorpion that tried to keep him pinned down was coming after him again. He should have done this to begin with put a round in it with his revolver. He must be getting old if he forgot his gun. It didn't help that he was old enough to be a ghoul's great grandfather. Speaking of ghouls, as soon as he heard gun fire, he ran out to find Private Edward finishing off the radscorpion that had been firing gecko parts at him. Beside them was a pile of dead geckos. All it took was a few extra clips to get the ghoul to come out and start fighting again.

But just as he was about to pull out the last fragment, Patrick sensed something going on with it. He wasn't sure what it was, but he felt that it was reacting with the radiation that flooded this place. To make matters worse, this fragment was causing all the fragments he was carrying to start glowing with their own energy. This had to stop before they could go critical and possibly explode! The resulting blast could spread their influence to everything and everyone in a wide area.

"Where's the radiation?" Patrick ordered.

"In the old station. Here, it's just over here." Private Edwards pointed out the largest building and the two headed there. Patrick didn't have the time to take the door so he simply punched his way through the wall. Much to his surprise, there was a queen radscorpion sitting inside. The creature didn't need the power of a fragment to become so big. Being as large as many vehicles, this thing could give a deathclaw pause.

It was only a stroke of good luck that it was already dead; its body was full of bullet holes. Behind it was the supposed 'radiation bomb'; it was a large container filled with nuclear material. It was still potent enough that it must have flash-radiated the area as soon as it was opened.

With all the nuclear energy concentrated in this one room, Patrick didn't have to wait to ignite his power. He simply removed his gloves and bandages and his hands exploded with bright green flame. This flame only burned even hotter as he grabbed the material inside the container and felt its energy flowing through him. But he only lasted a few seconds before he had to break contact. His hands were singed, but he couldn't stop now. He could almost hear the fragments screaming in his ears.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to grab hold again and absorbed the energy into his body. It was like trying to pull a boulder, but one he got it moving, it flowed into him like a great river. Now he had to make sure not to get washed away or else he might explode instead. His hands burned and his skin felt like it was about to melt, but he didn't let go. He let out a deep bellow and was propelled across the room and through the brick wall. Outside, he opened his eyes and groaned as he got up. Moving was painful right now, but he needed to make sure that the job was done right.

"I do not believe it, you got rid of the radiation! As a ghoul, I've always felt it, but for the first time, it's gone!"

"In my body..." Patrick moaned. "Damn, that hurt..."

"I'll bet, that was enough radiation to turn a whole army into ghouls. How'd you do it?"

"I absorbed energy."

Private Edwards removed his helmet to expose his balding head, "That'll explain why the fires are out." Indeed, the buildings were not even hot anymore, but the damage to them had already been done.

"So, what now?" Patrick asked.

Private Edwards looked like he wanted to answer, but didn't have one. "You know what, I've lasted this long around here without going feral. I'm just going to have to explore the region."

"I can help." Patrick pulled out the spare equipment he pulled off the bandits from earlier. "You take these. Keep you going."

"But what about you?"

Patrick shook his head, "I'll find more."

Private Edwards laughed, "Well, at your size, I'm sure you could. Thanks Patrick, I never thought that I would ever leave this place."

"Glad I am."

The ghoul burst out laughing, "Hey, I thought I was going to turn feral for about five years now. If you've been wandering about, I don't think you've got anything to worry about."

"Not a ghoul."

The laughing stopped, "But your skin..."

"Skin isn't dead. Old, scarred, burned. But still alive. Not mutant either. I'm something different."

"Damn, now I've seen everything. Well, I should get a move on. Hopefully I can figure my way. I hope we meet again."

"Sure we will. We live long."

Private Edwards smirked, a little hard to tell though, and started his journey. Wherever he goes, he was a survivor. He survived in a heavily irradiated area populated by radscorpions and golden geckos.

Patrick wrapped up his hands, which were almost burned black now. He would heal, but he needed some time. With the fragments collected, he harvested some shell and stingers from the radscorpions. There wasn't much after all that happened, but he wanted to see if he could made use of them.

He took his time as he lumbered back to the farm, his body still trying to adapt to the new energy that filled him. Alone the way, he noticed that a pack of nightstalkers was watching him. He pointed his hand at them like a gun and there was a small flash from the tip of his finger. He didn't shoot anything, but there was a loud enough _bang_ that told them to beat it. Back at the farm, all of the frag mines were still active. He deactivated them, slipped them back into his coat, and went inside to find Sara and Boxcars still asleep.

Sara seemed to have issues though, for she was turning in her sleep like she was having a really bad dream. Patrick gently scooped her up off the bed rocked her in his arms until she calmed down. He sat himself against the wall and just let his thoughts leave him for the night. If he couldn't sleep, he could make sure she could at least have a peaceful one. She reminded him of his own Sara, so many years ago. From the way he felt, there was a chance that a small part of her bloodline survived after all.

And if not, if this was his own feelings, he didn't care, he would fight of a pack of deathclaws for his new charge.

x

Where was he? Was he here? No, he wasn't there! She had to find him, she just had to! She wasn't safe without him. There were monsters, strange monsters, all around! She needed him to fight them off, she didn't like fighting the monsters. There were those strange monster that pretended to be a puppy. It attacked her, so she stabbed it in the head. It left her alone after that. It was a good puppy after that. She liked good puppies, but it wouldn't protect her. It wandered off, just like him.

But then came the bugs; she hated the bugs. She stabbed them too and they left her alone too. She needed to find him soon so the monsters would leave her alone. There were too many monsters, they were all around, but he could protect her. He would always protect her. He promised.

How did that promise go? She couldn't remember, all she could remember was waking up without him. Where did he go, why did he go? She had to find him, there were monsters all around. He promised that he would protect her. Oh right, cross his heart and hope to die...but right now she had to stick her needle in this bad piggy's eye.


	4. A Past Remembered

**I apologize for taking so long. I've been busy helping out another writer, so I haven't had the time to write my own stuff. I can't believe that I've only put out three chapters. It's time to fix that. I'm going to let you on a secret, I'm going to try and expand to a third. Where it will go? I'm not saying. Send your reviews so I know how much you like this one.**

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><p>While Sara was still sleeping, Patrick was already on the move. Boxcars was on his back again, making sure that nobody was going to sneak up on them. Patrick kept his pace slow and steady, making sure not to wake Sara up. She was tired and she had good reason. Her entire town was destroyed by nightstalkers, almost everyone killed. They had been lead by one that had been mutated beyond what was considered 'normal' for them. Whoever was spreading the fragments, there didn't seem to be any reason behind what they were doing. These cases were not the first time he had dealt with those mutated by their power.<p>

There was once a small village, populated by a simple tribe. They treated him like he was a powerful ancient being sent by the spirits to help their tribe. This was supported when he brought them guns, ammo, and medicine from all around. There were those who were concerned with his presence, but he never brought them any harm. Even those who once feared him began to respect him and even enjoyed the time he was with them.

In a way, they had become his family and he took on the roll of their protector. Even when he would leave for months at a time, he would always return with more to trade. And they would always have warm food and good leather to repair his coat with when he came home. He would give them the better part of the deal because he didn't need any of it.

Being able to stay with the children was his favorite activity while he was around. Whenever he was there, the men would go hunt and the women would leave him to take care of their kids. They would learn about the world they lived in by him while he had them too. He knew how harsh it was out there, but they wished to learn. He showed them how to skin geckos they caught in traps and which desert fruit wouldn't make them sick. He also taught them of the reality outside their little world. If they wanted to leave, they would learn to survive first. Those who can't survive the desert wouldn't make it on their own. This was why all the wild beasts could be so fierce. They had to be if they wished to survive.

During his time with the children, he met a pair of girls, twins actually, who favored him more than the others did. They enjoyed the toys and old picture books he would bring them. They would collect berries and fruit to trade, wanting to be like the grown-ups. They even used their lessons to start catching geckos. They would skin them and trade the hides and meat. Patrick made sure to bring them plenty, even going so far to have half a dozen teddy bears for both of them. Over time, they loved him like he was another father and treated him as such. Their parents trusted him because he would never let any harm come to them. When a wild dog attacked, he roared at it, scaring it off. When one of them fell sick, he stayed with her and made sure that she had everything she needed. The constant care and his knowledge of medicine helped her to pull through. Under his care, they were growing to become intelligent young women. It was three years after these events when things suddenly changed.

He was coming back after two months of wandering to find the tribe obliterated. He found the bodies of men, women, and even children. Among the rubble, there was evidence that they had discovered a collection of glowing fragments. Those who had them were quickly mutated and turned on their fellow tribe members in their rage. When he found the dolls he made for the twins, a Big Daddy and Little Sister, whatever heart he had shattered. He spent the next twenty years hunting down those who possessed the fragments. He barely ate and hardly ever slept, going for months between sleeps.

With the tribe lost, he never returned to the area. He kept to himself mostly. It was only when he discovered the Gun Runners that he started trading again. He had lived on wild animals he found and did his best to tan their hides. By the time he started trading for good leather, his coat was a mess. Because of his large size and knowledge of old-world guns, he helped them to rebuild their damaged machinery. His own weaponry was built especially for him using what he knew about gun designs that he picked up over the years.

"Hey, you can put me down now. Don't make me shoot you."

"Oh, sorry, Sara." Patrick put the woman down so she could walk on her own. He wouldn't easily admit it, but he didn't mind carrying her. She was a strong woman, but she was still vulnerable while she slept. "You sleep good?" he asked her and waited as she checked her pockets and pouches. She still didn't trust him well enough. Or it was just habit for her. To her, he could just be another wanderer who might want her stuff. It was the way of life in some areas, especially where bandits were concerned.

"Who said you could fucking touch me?" The tone of her voice told Patrick that she was trying to hide the fact that she was grateful. She must have enjoyed the contact, but she had an image to uphold. He could do without the foul language though, but after being alone for so long, it was better than nothing.

"No one did. Had to move. Bandits were coming." It was true, for he could always tell when trouble was coming around.

"Ya, sure," she took her gun back, which was hanging from his arm, and checked it over. Seeing that it was still in working order, she slung it over her shoulder and fell behind him as he started moving.

"You have family?" Patrick asked as they passed a road-side sign. It was so weathered that there was nothing left to read.

"Don't know if I have anyone left. My two brothers were off with my father out on a hunt and never returned. Ten years later, I was searching through a cave to find their bones. I recognized them because of their equipment. Damned idiots got themselves killed and eaten by cazadors. I waited ten whole years for them, hoping they would return. He never did keep his promise."

"And your mother?"

Sara sighed, these memories looked to be deeply buried, "My mom had to take care of me all on her own during that time. I learned to shoot a gun to help protect us from the geckos and wild dogs. She died of an illness she picked up from a gecko bite. But I was old enough by then to live on my own and sold all our valuables. I didn't have any need for them and needed the food and ammo. I wandered about, killing a few bandits here and there and doing odd jobs until I came across New Nipton. I lived there for three years until this whole fucking mess screwed everything up. I fucking hate this place, but I can't quite leave it. I bet you don't have to worry about it, though."

"Not so, Sara." Patrick shook his head and pulled out an old Big Daddy doll from inside his coat. He didn't have his Little Sister because she was lost the flames that took his tribe family. "I remember past. Feel what's lost. This toy, example. Belonged to child. She had twin. I cared greatly. I lost both."

"What happened?" Sara asked.

He took out his bag of fragments, "These accursed things. They ruined everything. Started it too."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm very old. Older than war." He took out a bottle of water and gulped it down to soothe his throat. "Saw the beginning. It was horrible. Fragments were whole. They create change. Change create monsters. I became monster. But I protector." He drank another water to keep speaking. "Made to defend. My body built. Built to fight. But I protect. Protect Little Sister. She like daughter. Share your name. Her name...Sara."

Patrick couldn't see her reaction with her walking behind him, but he heard her stop. He stopped too and turned around to see her shaking, gun in hand. His words had just tested what trust she had in him. She didn't want to have to think of him as someone she would have to fight.

"I won't fight. You have choice. Shoot or don't." He stood still so she could get a good shot at his head if she wanted.

"Hey, what are you doing? I'm still here, you know!" Boxcars struggled, but there wasn't anything he could do. Patrick wasn't going to move until Sara made hers.

"No, I won't. I don't know what you intentions are, but you fought to save me from those nightstalkers. You didn't even know me, yet you risked your life to help me. Hell, you would have probably tried to save the whole town if they weren't already dead. Come on, we have to keep moving."

"You remind me. Of Sara's soul. She good too."

Sara struck him on the arm with the butt of her gun. He barely felt it, but she got her point across. She didn't want to hear any of it anymore. But Patrick knew that she wouldn't do anything to actually hurt him. Saving her life at the risk of his own left its mark on her. He wasn't just any random wanderer, but he still had something to prove. As long as he didn't give her any actual reason not to, she might actually learn to trust him.

"We should go." He waited for her to put herself back together and only started moving when she was ready. He kept his pace steady so she could always keep up if she got lost in thought. When a lone gecko decided to attack them, he had her save her bullets and just kicked it. His foot was easily the best weapon against them. He took it with them so he could skin and carve it up along the way.

They came across an old NRC camp and took a few moments to check it out. There wasn't much to see beyond the piles of old metal that were once Old World campers. They were stacked on each other to act as walls, but now they were left to decay like everything else. Inside the small building, they only found some junk and the like. Not much was of any use to them. They did take the time to cook up the gecko, which tasted good. Gecko steaks was something any wanderer learned how to cook in order to survive. After they ate, they started moving again. But they were just leaving the gate when Patrick heard something coming towards them.

"Get behind me!" he cried as something created an explosion several feet before them. If he hadn't stopped like he did, there was a good chance that would have been them caught in the blast. He brushed off the debris off him and checked on Sara. She was shaking again, but this time because of shock brought on by the thought of her being killed in the explosion.

"Are you alright?" Patrick asked and reached for her. She looked at him and took his hand, which was almost like a child's compared to his. "And you, Boxcars?"

"I'm alright. Thanks for not turning around."

"I am protector. Pain is nothing." Unfortunately, that wasn't all that true. A chunk of stone had struck his knee and he was in great pain. Even for one with all his alterations, years of radiation undid some of that. But he did his best to ignore it, even managing to keep it from showing in his voice. "We should move! Town's in trouble!"

"Wait a minute, what's happening?"

"Could be fragments! Sara, get moving!" He knew she heard him because he could hear her cock her gun and was running just behind him. If there was any more explosions, he would make a good shield. He and Sara stayed low, keeping to the rocks until they knew that they weren't going to be attacked. Sara used her rifle scope to get a better look.

"I don't see anyone."

Boxcars spoke up, "That doesn't mean they aren't there. What should we do now? I'm not much help if they are in front of us."

Sara looked to Patrick for guidance and he took out Little Bertha, his double-barrel shotgun. With it in hand, he was ready for almost anything. But when a bullet flew over their heads, he was still forced to duck for cover. Fortunately, the shot was too high up to have been directed towards them. Either the shooter had no aim, or their target was moving rather quickly. Sara checked again and took a shot.

The loud scream told them that she landed the shot, but then she hit the ground. The rock she was using for cover was suddenly melted into slag by a powerful beam of thermal energy. They weren't sure what caused it, but it was enough for them to search for more cover. Even Patrick was no match for weaponry that powerful. Another shot fired and he had to put out a fire that ignited on his arm. It was close, but he was alright.

"Get better cover!" he cried and fired a 25mm grenade. The explosion was much stronger than what was supposed to happen, but everything went calm after that. He popped his head up, only for a .308 rifle round to nick his helmet. "Hold your fire!" he yelled. "We are friendly!"

"Put down your weapons and we will consider it!" came the responce.

"We're coming out!" he called back and put his shotgun away. "Guns down. We aren't hostile."

"But they still shot at us!" Boxcars replied.

"I know that. They were attacked." He had to gulp down a water for his throat. "They're protecting themselves."

"Just do it, Boxcars." Sara slung her gun on her shoulder and raised her arms, following what Patrick was doing. "We aren't hostile! Two of us are travelers from New Nipton!"

A man with dark skin approached, armed with a hunting rifle, "New Nipton? What are you doing out here?"

"Our town was attacked. Everyone but us are dead. Us too if it wasn't for the big guy here." She pointed her thumb in Patrick's direction. He didn't care much about the recognition, but he wasn't going to say anything about it.

"Is that so? Well, that's mighty fine of you. And we are glad you got rid of latest trouble. I'm Cliff Briscoe, I'm a merchant and the mayor of Novac."

"I'm Patrick Drake." Patrick pointed to himself, then to his companions. "Susan and Boxcars."

"Boxcars? Is that really you back there?"

"In the flesh. I would have visited sooner, but you know how it is. I had a hard time getting out of the house." He tapped Patrick's shoulder, getting him to turn around.

Cliff smiled and slung his rifle over his shoulder, "I'm sure you did. What are you doing out here?"

"Nipton's dead. We were attacked by nightstalkers." It was with that bit of information that his smile faded.

"Shit, and the place was actually looking better this time around. Any survivors beyond you two?" Both Boxcars and Sara looked away. Cliff sighed and motioned them to follow him.

Along the way, Sara moved to Cliff's side, "Hey, what was it that I shot?"

"You're talking about the rock roaches. We've only seem them recently, but they've caused us a lot of trouble. They came out of nowhere, spewing laser beams and dropping piles that blows up like dynamite."

"Sounds like they brought a shit storm with them."

"Hey, that's a good one. But what is strange is that we've found a green stone on one of them."

Patrick was quick to catch up, "Did you touch?"

Cliff pulled back, not sure what to do, "No Bark suddenly went wild about it and buried the thing. It belonged to the second biggest of them so we were worried it was poisonous. Hell, No Bark's crazy, but he's never reacted like that before. And we're sure the bigger of the two went to the old REPCONN facility. Ever since they appeared, we've had to deal with more and more bugs. Here, that one you shot is still here."

The roach was possitively huge. It was as big as a person but looked like it was heavily armored. True to its name, its shell was as rugged as a rock. Between its eyes was a glass-like stone that sparked when Cliff tapped it with his knife. Patrick ripped it out, causing it to glow with a green energy. He put it into his pocket and took out his own knife, one that was almost as long as Sara's arm. He carved off its back shell and carried it with him to the town. Sara was forced to have him put it in a trash bin because the stench was too much to handle.

The 'town' itself wasn't much beyond an ancient hotel. But it was reinforced with metal plates, protection against the rock roaches and their lasers. There were a few blast marks on the ground, but none of them were able to get inside the buildings. The bodies were left outside in a pile to rot, those that didn't already blow up. After settling Boxcars into a room, Patrick went off to carve them while Sara stayed with Cliff.

"Hey, how long ago was it since these bugs came around?" she asked.

Cliff rubbed his balding head, "About a month ago, why?"

"Nipton was attacked only recently. There was a huge nightstalker commanding some normal ones."

"Is that so?" He scanned the area from where they were on the second floor walkway of the hotel. He seemed on edge, probably worried that they were going to be attacked again. He took a swig of whiskey before he spoke, "I don't know what caused this, but these bugs are more dangerous than anything I've seen. We've already had to bury six people in that month. I guess we were lucky after what happen to New Nipton. Are you sure there were no survivors?"

"I wouldn't know because I was stuck on the roof of the town hall. Patrick was able to save my ass, even at the risk of his own life." She took the bottle of whiskey and took a swif of it herself and her face scrunched up. "Ooh, strong stuff you got. Got anything sweeter? Anyways, Patrick didn't even know me, but he worked to kill every one of them. He killed every one and took on their leader on his own. Hell, he did this with a fucking nightstalker stuck to his head!"

"What, as a hat?"

"No, he got bit by one, but it got stuck. I had to lop off its head before it could get off of his." She chuckled and took another drink. When it didn't go down so well, Cliff pulled out a bottle of vodka. "We found out that there was a fragment in the leader, which was why it grew so big. He told me that it was dangerous, so you were right not to touch one."

"Are you sure he wasn't just hunting the fragment?" Cliff asked.

Sara shook her head, "No, he seemed very concerned for my safety. And he wanted me to come with him. He even protected me from bullets and at least one explosion with his own body. He's an extremely rare sort of person." She took a drink of the clear liquid and found it to be more to her liking.

"How so?"

"I'm not quite sure how to put it." Sara leaned over the railing. "I guess he's the sort of person who would protect you at all costs. He doesn't care what happens to him as long as he's protecting you. And with that big body of his, I'm sure he will be able to do it. I guess it's wierd, but I feel like part of me knows him."

"Did you know your father when you were young?"

"I did, actually, but dissapeared during that time. I found out he was dead some time afterwards."

"Maybe Patrick reminds you of your father. These feelings could be from the qualities Patrick has that your father possessed as well."

Sara shook her head, "No, he's done things that my father could never do. My father was just a hunter, no matter how much I loved him. But Patrick is a greater man than anyone I have ever known, and not for his height or strength. I have met men who can fight off deathclaws, but Patrick seems to have the strength to take on whole packs with just his will alone."

"I can see you hold a lot of respect for him." Cliff passed his bottle of whiskey to a man who walked by them.

Sara was surprised by this, "Are you sure? I've only known him for a couple days now."

"Maybe he left a good impression on you."

Sara shrugged, "Saving me from a giant nightstalker's stomach would do that to you, I guess. But, what should I do now?"

"What do you mean?" Cliff asked. He could see that she was concerned about something, but her face wasn't about to tell him what.

"We're finally here, in a safe place. We can leave Boxcars here where he can be of use, but what about me?"

"There's plenty of space here for the both of you."

"That's kind, but I think I might stick with Patrick for awhile longer. I want to see just what he can do." She drained the bottle and put it on the floor. "I'm sure that he's going to take me places that I didn't know existed. Hey, who's that?" She still had her rifle with her, so she pulled it up and used the scope to see them. What she saw was Patrick talking to another figure. From what she could tell, the stranger was about as big as him. Then the stranger pointed in her direction and Patrick started walking back to town. "Hold on, I need to check up on something." She nearly flew down the stairs and out the gate to see Patrick walking towards her.

"Hey, who was that person you were talking too?"

"Another wanderer. Traded for supplies."

"What did you have to trade? I thought you left your stuff to me and Boxcars to pay for our own supplies and ammo."

"Traded bug shells. Good for armor. But needs work." He walked past, only to stop and say, "Ending bad smell."

Sara got a faint smile from that one and she followed him back into the town. He sat himself just inside the gate and started checking his equipment. His fingers were surprisingly agile as he used a large needle and thread to sew up his coat. It wasn't the best jobs she had ever seen, but it was enough to close the holes. Then he went to work checking up on his guns. He still had his large shotgun and revolver, untouched from the explosion. She spotted a pair of thick-looking holsters, which was probably the reason why. She also noticed some sort of body armor that he was wearing. It was patchwork, but once he started working on it, he pulled out several sharp stones. They were big enough to kill a lesser person, but he pulled them out like they were nothing.

"Those look painful."

Patrick grunted and replied, I'm strong enough. Been for years."

"Hey, your knee is bleeding!" Sara ran inside for a medical kit and came back to see that he had torn his pants leg off. He was sewing a new one while she went to work on his leg. Even his limb was wrapped in old bandages, but there was a big tear where the wound was. There wasn't much blood, as if the wound has sealed up rather quickly. Patrick didn't make her stop or leave him while she wrapped it, but instead just sat there, watching her. "I guess now I know for certain that you're a survivor of the war."

"This," he pointed to his withered skin, "old mutation."

"You're a mutant?" She tilted her head and examined the blood that stained his leg.

"I was made. To be this. Don't you remember?"

Sara remembered, but she didn't think of him as a mutant, "I guess, but it was strange to think tha you had a mutation."

"Ghouls are mutated."

"I know, but your skin, it's not falling off. It's a bit withered, but I can see that it's still there. Why do you keep yourself wrapped up like this?"

"Look too different. Even ghouls unsure. Because of size."

"Hmm, ya, I guess so. I guess people might think you're just another super mutant or something and attack you on sight. Has that ever happened?"

"Yes, from bandits." Now that she was done, he started sewing on the new pants leg.

"But didn't normal people attack you?"

"They learned quickly. Guns always help."

"Don't tell me you shot them!" She nearly tipped over when Patrick poked her.

"What was that for?"

"I never fire. They too impressed. After shooting bandits." He resumed sewing his pants together and left the conversation. She sat by him and leaned her head against the fence. She was tired after all the excitement and needed a drink. "This for you." Patrick pulled out a large bottle. "It's wasteland tequila. Made it myself." Sara took it and gave it a try, only to sputter and fall to the ground. Patrick was able to save the bottle from falling and drank it himself. He handed her a bottle of wine afterwards.

As the sun began to settle, Patrick took it upon himself to wait just outside of town. With Sara and Boxcars inside, he was able to wait for a large figure to appear.

"So, what have you found?" he took out a bottle of water and gulped half of it before handing it over.

"Information was correct. Source passed here." Patrick took out the fragments he was carrying. "You take these. Keep them safe."

"Alright, and you stay safe too." The tall man gulped down another water. "We've already lost three of us. Only four of us remain."

"What about them?"

"They haven't been found yet. And if we don't find them..." he gulped yet another water. "If we don't find them, this world is lost."

"We'll save it. We'll find them. Or die trying."

"We're going to die again when this is over. Why should an early one be different?"

"Then we failed..."


	5. A Truth Realized

**I'm terribly sorry for taking so long. I've had to deal with Toyhaunter, the lemon writer. Seriously, I'm not allowed to state Toy's gender under threat that the next anime prescribed to me will possibly be a Yaoi...**

**0_0**

**I only barely dodged a bullet with Boku no Pico. Reaction vids will save your sanity. At least it saved mine. Didn't save me when I discovered that this cute anime girl was actually a perverted guy who got transformed for some reason or another. He/She was even wearing a maid outfit with cat ears and a tail and looked so adorable...then I just about freaked... They're called traps for a REASON! Ahem...**

**Anyways, I've been busy, so haven't been on in a long time. Oh ya, to those who might not know this, I haven't been able to get Bioshock Infinite around where I live, Toy's the same. If someone wishes to try anyways, use one of my Big Daddies from the ending of the first. I will allow his powers and memories of what went on to be copied from the first story if you wish. Just remember to tell people that you are using my material so they will understand where you are coming from with the information. An Alpha Series would probably be best because of their potential and plasmid abilities. Just remember to PM me about it.**

**Oh ya, there is another game I've played. Since there won't be any time travel to the past in my stuff, where in the future will we end up with? I know, Toy does too, just don't ask because it's a surprise. Try it and I'll leave you on Toy's doorstep holding a lemon. I do not want to explain what will happen after that. Seriously, if you've ever met Toy you will know that really wasn't my idea.**

**If you find any spelling mistakes, PM me, I was boiled from the heat outside after finishing this.**

**And just so you know, this isn't the end.**

x

x

After the other walked off, Patrick pulled out his revolver and started heading towards the REPCONN sight. There was a chance that a fragment was inside, so he was going to check. He didn't want Sara coming with him, which was why he waited until now. She was safely asleep back in Novac, so he could go in without fear.

A bad wind was blowing through the area as he made his way down the ancient road. There were a number of blast marks about, but no bodies. It was likely these creatures were cannibalistic, eating those who might have exploded. But when he realized some of the 'rocks' were shivering, he knew he wasn't alone. The first laser burned into his hand, causing him to drop his weapon. The one who shot him got a rock to the head, splattering it. When it hit the ground, it detonated, sending pieces of its shell flying.

"Rock beats laser. Good to know." He picked up another rock and chucked it, causing another to explode. But these chain reactions were soon getting chaotic as the creatures grouped together. One chain had nearly a dozen different explosions, blasting him with fragments of their shells. Bloodied, he kicked one out of his way before retrieving his gun. Upon the first gunshot, their antenna shook and they scattered. It was strange, but it meant that he had a clear path. He didn't care that his coat was torn up, only that he had to collect the fragment that was possibly creating these creatures.

He lumbered down the road, making sure to watch for any more bugs. But another gunshot was enough to scatter them in all directions. Appearantly, their antenna were too sensitive to the shock wave his gun created when fired. He made it up the steps without issue, only to find out that the doors were torn asunder. Whatever did this amount of damage had to be strong. The doors weren't simply ripped out off their hinges, the cement around them was shattered.

When he went inside, he was greeted with something that splattered under his foot. There were larva the size of cats crawling about, spreading a sticky ooze where they went. As if sensing the death of the young larva, there was a loud screech, meaning whatever was making these things knew he was inside the nest. It wasn't long before several brown-shelled roaches appeared, hissing and spewing acidic saliva. They almost appeared humanoid by the shape of their limbs. He shot the first that came close and was splattered by its guts, but this time the others didn't run away. These ones weren't so sensitive like the others, so they weren't about to run away.

They tackled him all at once, forcing him to drop his gun and take them on with his bare hands. As their acid burned his coat, he ripped the head off one and rammed it into the face of another. He hit it so hard that he pressed both into the insect's body. Another jumped on his back, trying to chew into his neck. But when he couldn't get a hold of it, he jumped into a wall, squashing it. The saliva burned at his coat and flesh, bringing a great deal of pain that he ignored. As for his coat, it wasn't melting, but it was slowly weakening anyways and peeled open under its own weight. He ripped it free and tossed it aside before pulling out his shotgun. The next pair he saw were blasted by a wave of lead pellets, his version of a shotgun shell. He couldn't quite use his grenades without risk of blowing the building down on top of him. But his shells were packed with enough pellet shot to fill five normal shells. When the two were hit, they were not just shot down, they were shredded.

He took his revolver into his other hand and replaced the three bullets he had already used and the one for his shotgun. Reloaded, he went further inside the complex. He wasn't sure just what this place was for, only that much of it was chewed up to create new walls and passages for the roaches. This he discovered when another pair of black roaches appeared, only to be blasted by another shotgun shell. He destroyed the opening with a powerful kick that shattered the wall over it.

Further inside, he came across a few rooms that were filled with eggs and larva. It was in one of these that he came across a roach that stood like a human. It was putting an egg into a slot in the wall when it noticed him. It screeched and lept, only to get the barrel of his revolver stuffed into its face. He splattered its head matter across the walls, but the body didn't die. For some reason, it was still able to swipe at him. He pushed it down and brought his foot upon it.

The screech that came about left him rather concerned. Not one of these bugs were big enough to screech like that. It happened deeper into the complex, so his destination was put out for him already. Searching for the room would have worked out if the ceiling wasn't now coming down upon him. He had about three different ways to go, but as soon as he tried to run for cover, the floor gave way.

When he came to, he discovered that he was in another room, possibly underground. The bugs had been eating at the floor, causing it to give way when part of the ceiling came down. It was irritating, but he was alright. A few cracked ribs and he had dislocated his shoulder.

"Alright, come out." He swung his arm back, smashing a roach in mid-jump. The loud crack was not from the insect, but his shoulder popping back into place. He didn't quite have the strength in it to kill the thing right away, so he planted his foot in its gut as it writhed on the floor. He stomped down so hard that it was split in two. When that didn't kill it, he ripped off its head just so its screaming wouldn't draw in more of its kind.

What was strange was that these bugs didn't have the stones in their heads that allowed the others to fire lasers. It was as if this one was a whole different mutation. The crazed way they attacked him reminded Patrick a lot of the Spider Splicers he used to have to deal with on a constant basis back in Rapture. Even before its fall, he remembered having to deal with so many Splicers. So many deaths by his hands, all because of the substance that fueled his power.

As he continued on, he suddenly found himself in a glass hallway, with all kinds of fish swimming about. A squid went by, not paying him any attention as it went on its way. He was holding a great drill and saw that he was dressed in a modified diving suit.

"Come on, daddy, this way!" a little girl ran by him and he lumbered after her. All he cared about right now was making sure that he kept an eye on her. It was his duty to keep her safe, safe from the Splicers. They wanted to kill her, take her from him, but he wouldn't let them.

As she ran out of the hallway and into a large room, she shrieked when she nearly ran into a man. The man looked normal enough, but he looked like a threat to the Little Sister all the same. A growl and a stomp of his foot was all it took to get him out of the way. After that he payed the man no mind, for he still had to protect the child. She was nervous, but he patted her on the head and her eyes shined for him. He remembered that glow, it filled him with such warmth.

"Here's the angel!" the girl called and ran ahead. He stopped close by to scan the area for threats while she worked. When he turned back, she was gulping down a red substance from the needle she carried. She burped and giggled to herself. He reached down and wiped her lip with his large finger, bringing some color to his old glove. He took her hand and let her pull him away to the next 'angel'.

"Look at what we got here, boys! Get her!"

The girl screamed as heated hooks flew past. His heart pounded in his head as one struck her leg, bringing her down. He scooped her up with one arm and charged through the men and women who got in his way. He started up his drill and slammed one woman into the wall. It didn't matter that she was just a Spicer, she was a threat, and threats were dealt with.

She screamed as his drill turned, grinding out her insides and spraying it everywhere. When she stopped, he tossed her aside and bashed in the skull of another. When that didn't stop the group, he set his feet and launched himself like a rocket, smashing through their number with ease. One died under his heavy boot, while another had his head ground to a pulp by his drill. A third and fourth both died when he swatted them with his drill arm.

As the rest scattered, he was able to let the girl down on the blood-soaked floor. The hook was still in her leg, but the flesh was already healing around it. He put down his drill and grabbed hold of the hook. She screamed so loud when he pulled it out, tearing out flesh that tried to absorb the metal. But with it gone, her body was already going through the healing process. In a short while, her leg would be all better. She smiled at him once more when the pain stopped and reached up for him. He was about to pick her up when she was snatched by a Spider Splicer.

"DADDY!" she screamed as she was carried off. He roared with rage, for nobody took her away from him! He charged, his drill in hand and quickly coming back to life. He would tear her apart when he found the one responcible.

But as he ran, the woman pulled her into a hole in the wall, a hole that was too high for him to reach. He roared once again, but it was too late. The woman was gone with her spoils. All there was left to do was find another Little Sister. It was his duty to protect them and he should always have one by his side.

Wait, this was wrong! This isn't what he remember! His Little Sister was Sara! He didn't fail her, he found her, all grown up! No, that wasn't his memory either! His Little Sister's name was...it was...he...couldn't...remember? Why? Why was he doubting his memories now?

He let a roar, a roar that shattered the images he was seeing. He found himself standing in a tunnel, surrounded by dead insects. His hands were covered in their blood, just like what happened to all the Splicers. What...happened to him? Why was his memory only now starting to come apart?

The scream that echoed throughout the tunnels reminded him of a voice that he didn't think he would ever hear again. But it was quicky drowned out by another scream, one that was so much louder. As he came into what looked like a control room or something, he looked through the window to see a large circular room.

In the middle of the room was a lone woman. The energy she gave off was being used to keep the eggs warm while a massive insect moved them about so they would all get a chance. The woman screamed again, trying to fight the hardened goo that trapped her. Then she looked up, looked up at him, and he noticed her eyes. Even through the darkness, only lit by the strange green glow she gave off, he could see the yellow glow of her eyes.

She screamed again, screamed for him, screamed to be released. She wanted to be released from her tortured existence. It was obvious that she didn't care about life, she just wanted release from this hell.

But the insect queen, the lower half hidden in the wall, screeched back to silence her. It was only when Patrick was struck from behind and his head broke through the glass seperating them that the creature discovered his presence. He grabbed the roach that hit him by its head and forced its clawed hand through its face. Slamming a plasma grenade into its body, he hurled it through the window at the queen.

The queen didn't care for one soldier, so she swatted it aside. But she stopped and screamed when the body exploded, boiling her eggs in a flash of hot plasma. She tried to reach for the nex three that flew past her head but it was too late. They fell among her clutch and detonated, turning more eggs into green goo.

"Let her go!" Patrick fired both barrels of his shotgun and leaped down. The lead pellets had little to no effect on the queen's hard exoskeleton. So he took out his revolver and fired, sinking every round into her face. But none of the rounds penetraded through her shell. Since it was useless against this thing, he dropped his revolver and ran from the queen's assault as he reloaded his shotgun with plasma grenades.

"Watch out!"

Patrick nearly lost his concentration when the woman screamed. That was all it took as he was struck from behind by a claw that appeared through the wall. It sank deep into his shoulder and he turned to see a smaller version of the queen staring back at him. It was still bigger than him and that moment of realization was all it took for the smaller creature to cut into his arm. It cut into the bone, but it wasn't strong enough to break it. So much pain flooded his mind, but he ignored it as he slammed his shotgun in the thing's mouth.

"Chew on this!" he fired one into the creature's throat and was blasted back as the insect's head was blown apart in a burst of plasma. But he couldn't stay on the ground for long because there was still the threat of the queen. She was pissed now that he had just killed the next generation of queen. She was desperately trying to pull herself out of the wall, but her body extended far inside another tunnel. Patrick wanted to end this, end the abomination. But as he lifted his shotgun, another one grabbed his wounded arm and bit down, hard.

Its acidic blood, enhanced by another fragment, leached the calcium from his bones in a matter of seconds. It wasn't long until it could simply tear his arm from his body with ease. The pain was so immense that he was starting to black out.

"Daddy, come on!" he opened his eyes and saw his daughter running off ahead. The Great One was returning to their tribe! His daughter wanted to see just what gifts he had for her and her sister. He had been gone for months, but now he returned to them. The last time, he was able to trade for a metal blade and a rifle that helped him greatly in his hunt for geckos.

"Great One, you are here!"

"I always come, when you wait for me." His voice was strained, yet he made the effort to speak to the child. The Great One always came to their tribe. He liked it here, and the tribals always enjoyed his company. For even though he was so big, he was so gentle with the children. They did not fear him because he was so big and powerful, instead they loved him for his kindness twoards them.

He took out a dress he made of gecko skins. With so much time on his hands, he could tan the hides and sew them together. She loved her gift, and he still had another for her little sister.

"Where is everyone?" the Great One asked. The girl was going to answer when a scream came from the village. "No, a fragment!"

"Daddy!" the girl screamed and he picked up his daughter. "Daddy, what's wrong?"

"I do not know. Great One, what is happening?"

"Someone found fragments!" he ran off towards the village in a great hurry.

"Daddy!"

"Over here!" he cried as his second daughter came running. He scooped her up and took her away to a hidden cave. "Stay here and wait for me. I must help the Great One!" He didn't want to, but he had to leave his children and go tend to the village.

"Watch out!" He opened his eyes, to see that the roaches were on top of him. What was happening! No, it didn't matter right now! He pulled the pin of his last plasma grenade and prepared himself for more pain. If his memories were right, this pain would be nothing compared to what he lost.

When the grenade went off, it flash-fried his clothes and left his flesh burnt. The pain was immense, but the memories drove him on. The queen was thrashing madly, having lost another royal member. But Patrick didn't care, she was just another wild mutation by the fragments. She was never supposed to be able to exist naturaly. Though mutants existed, the fragments should not have been in this world to create these.

The fragments were the reason they existed. The fragments were the reason this world suffered. They were the reason he suffered at the hands of one of his own. In order to fight those who became altered by the fragments, he had to give up his own life and memories for power.

Beating inside his chest, his heart glowed with the power of five fragments. Not all his memories were his, for they were a gift to keep his sanity intact. His body was not his own, it was a sacrifice by one who had his humanity taken from him. He was not Patrick Drake, he was once a tribal, but his people were lost, his children's lives taken from him. He watched them die at the hands of one who became like one once called a Brute Splicer. He knew the name from the memories of the body he inhabited. They were not his own, and now he began to realize that after so many years in this body, he was suddenly breaking down.

So much damage by the insects, his body couldn't regenerate itself without splicing his memories with his body's. Now with the blast of the grenade having destroyed his skin, it was only a matter of time. To have it happen so suddenly, it was too soon. It was too soon to save the girl! He already lost his daughters, he would not see another woman die by any hand or claw!

He focused all his energy into his fragments as the queen clawed at the wall, trying to break free. But it was time for her to dissapear. She was only going to cause destruction without end as her brood spreads and devours everything. But what he learned from the ghoul's corpse out was that they didn't like radiation. Well, his body has been absorbing radiation ever since the original mind had awaken nearly two centuries ago.

There was enough nuclear energy contained inside his body to create a nuclear explosion if he wanted to. But right now, all he needed was nuclear fire. His body burned bright with green energy, much like the energy the woman was giving off, but he different from her. Her energy came from a fragment imbedded in her chest, with her body being used to contain and control its flow. Now he was absorbing that too, fueling his flames. The queen screamed and clawed at the floors and walls, trying to break free. The radiation was too intense for her that it was burning out her senses, leaving her blind crazed as her antenni were burned off.

"Sara...I'm sorry...I'm not returning..." with that he unleashed all his energy in a single burst. He injected into the queen's fragment in her chest. The energy was so intense that the fragment fell out of her body. He need not retrieve it because the energy it was containing melted the ground beneath it. The fragment would continue to dig through the ground until it would be destroyed by the planet's very core.

Drained, he could feel his body beginning to break down. He had nothing left, his fragments were nearly drained. There wasn't enough power left in them to cause any further mutation, but they could not power this body any longer.

In short, he was dying. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"You okay?"

From what he had left of his right eye, his left one having melted shut, he could see the woman. She was looking around, trying to find a way to help him. But it was too late. He got to help the Great One. He got to help the original Patrick Drake. No, that wasn't his name. What was it that he...called himself when...he came to his village? Oh yes...Big Brother. It was...thanks to him that...he could remember what...it was...like...to have a daughter again...

"Hang on!" the woman grabbed his remaining hand, only for it to break in her grip. It wasn't because she was too strong, it was because his bones were melting from the inside out. Without the radiation to keep his body functioning, and with his fragments drained, his cells were breaking apart.

"Go...to...town. It is...nearby... Find...Sara...there. Bring...her...fragments..." he plunged what was left of his hand into his chest and pulled out his heart. "This...belongs to...Sara..." his breathing was getting weak as his lungs slowly collapsed and filled with fluid. There wasn't much time left. "I...remembered I...was not...Big Daddy...but...father..."

He could feel only warmth now and could see his daughter running to him. He smiled back and held out his arms so he could hug them once more.

"A father of two. I knew them well. But my love was unmatched by yours. Sara will get your heart and your love as your third daughter. Goodbye, my friend and brother. Sleep now, you earned it."

That voice...it had to be-


	6. A Name Regained

**Once again, I have disappeared, but I was able to put this new chapter for the new year. I hope you like it.**

x

x

"Sara, were you up there all night?" Boxcars called as he wheeled out, the sun rising in the distance. The woman nodded and he went to find her something to drink.

She's been concerned for Patrick's safety ever since she discovered he left without a word and hasn't returned since. Sara had heard something off the road by the old REPCONN area, but all she found was rubble. She searched for as long as she could, but she couldn't find anything, the place was a mess. Hopefully he wasn't part of it, or else...she didn't know what to think. The woman just wanted to know that he was alright.

Nobody has ever treated her like he did. He was so much of a father to her, even in their short time. It was a nice thought, but she didn't want him to disappear like her dad did. The loss of her father left such a deep scar that was only starting to heal over, but now this happening was only straining things. She owed him for all he did. Heck, she swung an axe at him. Even if it was to get rid of the beast hanging off his head. It was only now that she was regretting it.

So she stayed up on the balcony, watching the gate for Patrick to come lumbering in like nothing had happened. Then the silence shattered as a gunshot from the dinosaur's mouth went out. Novac's night sniper, a new guy they had recently hired, had shot a round. Before he could fire a second, he fell out, a bullet hole in his head.

"Shit, raiders! Everybody, get up! Now!" she screamed and took aim. Her scope helped greatly as she found her target, lined up the shot, and took out their sniper with a bullet through his eye. The group, surprised by her shot, looked around. She was able to make the shot because she had a silencer on the end of her barrel.

"Come on, first one to pick up that rifle dies," she muttered to herself, lining up the next shot with the fool who tried and he got a bullet through one ear. Unlike a warning, this one didn't simply nick his ear. As the townsfolk were coming out, something slammed into the dinosaur and exploded with enough force to obliterate its body and drop the head on a nearby house. The heat singed her skin and hair as the light hurt her eyes.

"Fat Man!" she screamed as she got back to her feet. "They have a Fat Man!"

The mini-nuke had not only blown up the dinosaur, it blew out all the windows. She immediately took aim where she saw the shot come in and found a person setting up another shot. But one round from her rifle was all it took to set his mini-nuke off, disintegrating him in nuclear fire.

She had no time to celebrate as she had to deal with the other bandits. What the...!? Where did they go!? They were there a minute ago, now where were they!? She scanned the area with her scope, but nobody was there. Did the flash do something to her eyes? No, that wasn't it. Steathboys! They had to have Stealthboys!

"Come here, girly!"

She turned to the voice, only to have her rifle barely grabbed and ripped out of her hands. She took a punch from a power fist that knocked her off the second floor to the ground. The man had not activated his weapon, so that meant he wanted to take her alive. But while she was alive, she felt like she had a cracked jaw and a broken arm from the fall.

Everywhere, people were coming out, only to have their weapons stolen from their hands and they were quickly disabled. A few were able to put up a fight, but it wasn't enough. Everyone got rounded up outside of town, leaving the hotel and a few of the houses to burn down.

"Hey, this was the bitch who shot our guys! Skin her!"

Someone grabbed Sara by her hair and a knife got put to her neck, only for a gunshot to ring out, dropping the man. She would have been grateful if it wasn't for the fact that she was just saved a quick death.

"That's not how this works. You don't just slaughter a nice piece of meat like a wild dog. Whoever pays the highest gets to take her and tan her hide! You can kill her, but just be considerate and give the rest of us a show before you do."

"Ten caps!"

"Twelve caps and five shotgun shells!"

"I have a golden gecko hide!"

"Fifty caps!"

"I've got a hunting rifle!"

"I'll put up my plasma rifle!" one man cried and the other raiders took pause.

In the end, he was the winner. Nobody else had a weapon in as good condition, a surprising thing for a bandit. Sara tried to struggle as he tried to remove her pants but her arms were bound behind her back. But the look in his eyes had her fearing for her life.

"Hey, leave that girl alone, you vampires!" yelled an old man. Sara knew him as No Bark, the town crazy. He was carrying a pair of assault rifles strapped to his shoulders, looking like the hero of the day. "Let the girl go before I pump you full of justice!" Wherever he got those weapons didn't matter, just as long as he could-

"Not today, grandpa!" a bandit deactivated his Stealthboy and before Sara could scream a warning, a knife put through the old man's ribs. In a single moment his breath was knocked out of him, taking his final words and his blood dripped from his lips. But for a crazy, dying old man, he had a bloody smile on his face as he tossed a package and pulled out a detonator.

"What the hell is that!?" someone yelled.

Sara used this moment to headbutt the one on top of her, crushing his nose, before scampering off. "No Bark, thank you!" she yelled and was blown off her feet. She and the townsfolk fared a lot better than the raiders because they were gathered around the old garage. After the C4 went off, the blast killing half the group, the stack of grenades that No Bark was carrying blew, killing his attacker and getting a couple more.

It was like a scene from hell itself, with fires burning all around and broken bodies littering the place. The moans of the injured and the screams of the dying filled the air as much as the smoke. But for the most part, those who mattered were alright, but there were still the men guarding the townsfolk. Sara had to help them, but how? Her arms were still bound and she didn't have a weapon.

"Where do you think you're going, girly?" came a voice that froze the blood in her veins. The bandit who had tried to rape her was still alive, the side of his face burned black. But that crazed look on his face remained, making his appearance even more horrifying.

"Why won't you just fucking die!"

"Now why would I go and do that when I have a pretty little thing like you? I'm sure all you need is a good f-"

"SAAAARRAAAA!" came a blood-curdling scream that pierced through all the noise as a blur of green light flashed by, stealing the man off his feet and dragging him off, kicking and screaming. "LEAVE HER ALOOOONE!" the sounds of bone cracking and blood spilling could be heard as the man screamed.

Sara couldn't believe her eyes as it slowed for just a moment as it, revealing itself as a glowing one! They were typically feral ghouls who gave off the tell-tale glow of radiation. But the way it moved, it was distorting the light around it, preventing the bandits from knowing where it was going until it was too late.

Bullets started to fly but the bandits couldn't land a hit. It was only when one man with a caravan shotgun managed to hit it in the shoulder that the ghoul stopped. But if there was ever a time that a feral ghoul could look angry, this was it. Its eyes glowed and it let out another scream froze the man's heart.

It bolted so fast that it was almost as if the decrepit figure had blinked out of existence for just a moment. It took the shotgun, slammed it so hard into the man's gut that it burst out the other side, and grabbed the trigger so it could blast another with the second shot.

"Give me your ammo!" it growled before ripping the shotgun shells from the bandit's pouch. Reloading the shotgun, it ripped the weapon out and used both barrels on another before sinking it into the heart of another.

Sara just sat there, too impressed and horrified to move. This creature was making short work of these men, all the while dodging and taking bullets without a care. It had strength and ferocity that could put a deathclaw to shame. But the worst part was that it knew her name.

How could a ghoul, whose brain had turned to mush from radiation, be able to remember her name? That fact alone was almost _more_ terrifying than watching it tear these men apart, deserving as they are. But as she was getting back to her feet, she noticed something strange in the corner of her eye.

Then something went through it.

x

x

After he snapped the bandit's spine, he tossed the body away after pulling the pins on his grenade belt. Even in this withered form, he was more powerful than any of them, strong enough to send the body flying towards one who was trying to escape but failed when he was caught in the blast. But when the ghoul turned, he found a being even more powerful than him.

A familiar red glow flashed from a porthole in the figure's helmet, while green organic crystals grew out of her spine. But he was focused on the woman speared on the giant needle attached to Big Sister's arm.

"SARA, NOOO!" he roared and the tall figure turned his way, screaming back.

An invisible wave hit him, pushing him back but in his anger he ripped through it. But the next one came with large rocks that knocked him off his feet and sent him rolling across the dirt. Several bones snapped but he quickly struggled to get back up. By then his attacker was gone and Sara wasn't moving.

No, no, no, not her, not Sara!

He ran to her side and held her head in his arms, flinching when he saw the damage to her face. Sara's left eye was wide with shock, as if her attacker struck before she could feel anything. But the right was gone altogether, her face covered in blood after the attacker fled.

Then Sara surprised him by looking directly at him, locking her gaze with his and mouthing words but lacking the voice for them. She was afraid of him, and for good reason. Covered in blood and bullet wounds, his luminescent green blood mixing with that of the bandits, he was a mess. Then his body stopped glowing, leaving just the dull, withered green skin.

"Sara...it's me. It's Patrick."

Sara tried to say his name, but she couldn't speak. Her nerves were shot and her body could hardly respond to her will. He wanted to help her, to save her, but he didn't know what to do. Wasn't there anything he could do? He just came back from the dead, so why couldn't he do the same for her?

"It is as I feared. She is hunting for her sister. The fragments have corrupted her mind, as they are slowly corrupting mine."

The ghoul looked up to see the large figure who gave him his life back by putting his heart into another body. He didn't have the memories of his new form, but he remembered the recent ones he made with Sara.

"Please, save her!" Patrick begged while Sara started gasping for air. Her body was losing strength from the tainted glow that infected her wound. It wasn't mutating her; it was simply keeping her from dying fast enough.

"I will do what I can. She is the last carrier of the bloodline that started with my Sara. I will not see that line end here like this, with my Sara's own sister having a hand in it."

He put his large hand on the woman's face, bringing a green glow to it. Patrick wanted to do something, but he was forced to watch, every second an eternity he had to wait out. Then she gasped and coughed, thrashing out of the ghoul's hands to roll over and dry heave for several minutes. The two only watched as the woman slowly pushed herself up on her knees and looked back.

From what was once a tainted hole in her skull, her eye had returned, but the color of her iris had changed from dark brown to a bright, almost glowing, shade of green. It flared for a moment, revealing the power of the fragments within, before the glow spread across the side of her face to reveal a mark laid into her very skin. It quickly receded and her eye turned into a dull green. One wouldn't have been able to tell it wasn't her natural color if they had seen her eyes before this.

"I have left you with all I could. I have nothing left to give," the massive figure groaned as he sat himself down. The woman by his side put a hand on his shoulder and he nodded that he was alright. "I am the original, or at least what is left. The first changed by the fragments when they were still one, long before the nukes fell. This radiation that blankets your world, it is killing me as it destroyed the mind of my Susan. Her body is only animated by the fragments imbedded and growing in her body."

He continued, "I have left you with her memories, so at least you may remember who she once was and not how she is now. Our memories must go on to prevent the repeat of the past. But as I am now, I am no longer the one known as Big Brother. I am just an empty shell who wears his former body."

"W...what do you mean? You are no longer?" Sara was confused, while the ghoul understood.

"I have given up that identity to your friend here," he pointed a large finger to the withered man beside her. "All that I am, or was, is part of him now. And all that is my Susan, the sister of your ancestor, now belongs to you."

"So, I am Big Brother now?"

"Yes, and now I can return to my original name. I can still keep going for now, because I have many years of memories left in me. But I must leave soon or else risk having what remains of them to decay."

The big man, the real Patrick Drake, pulled back his hood and removed his helmet to show his face. He was old, misshapen, and covered in scars of all sorts. There was a plasma burn over his right eye, a claw mark over the other. Somehow, he still had both of them. There was also a dull look in his eyes, showing his advanced age.

"I've been searching for so many years. And in only in a few days, Susan's suddenly on the move. And not only that, she finds the last living descendent of her sister."

A memory passed through the newly named Big Brother's mind, showing him their faces when they were young. Then of their faces when they were all grown up. It wasn't his memory, but without any memories of this body, or of his earlier one, the person he once was had died without having his own name besides Patrick Drake. There were some memories that lived on, which would make sure he would stay who he always was.

Then again, that person never really existed beyond a memory. Patrick Drake was the original and the only one to keep his full memories. But now that legacy had been passed on to this new shell, filling him with memories and giving him a reason to exist. This body already lost its existence when it lost its head. And when the previous host of his heart died, that was another part of him that was lost. But fate must have conspired to do this.

His heart, a part of one who found the last descendent of Sara, the first to own it. And it was given to one who would be best to use it to protect that dependent. But the way she was looking at him, with her new eye, it almost felt like the two had never changed from the first time they met. It was too weird, because they couldn't be any more different and so many years have passed since then.

"D...do you remember, the day we first met?"

"The day you lopped off a deathstalker's head while it was biting mine?"

"No, earlier. I don't quite remember it too well, but I remember you were...bigger."

Patrick chuckled, "That was because I was. You are remembering through secrets locked away in your very blood. It's been hiding within you for so long, but it has always remained strong. You will remember things, things that were never yours but belong to you as your legacy from the first Sara. You don't know how many generations of Sara and Susan passed through your family. And your father, Samuel, was one of only a few men who carried the bloodline. It was truely sad when I discovered that he died. But I was so far away then. I would have helped if I could."

Sara put her hand on the big man's shoulder, "It's alright. He left me with something no father ever could. He not only gave me life and a child to my mother, he gave me a legacy. And you helped to make sure that he would get to exist when you protected the first Sara. And you even helped me to gain my protector. My own Big Brother. Isn't that right? Or do you still prefer Patrick Drake?"

The ghoul shook his head and looked to the sky, "No, Big Brother is alright with me. Patrick Drake was never my true name anyways, and this body has no name to call its own, memories or not." He approached Sara and ran his hand through her hair, revealing her green eye. "You look good this way. At least I won't be the only one who glows in the dark."

She reached out and flicked him on the forehead, now that she could reach, but when she did, it let out a small 'bang' as some sort of force snapped. Patrick chuckled, since he understood their powers better than Sara or the new Big Brother.

"Sorry, this is going to take a bit to explain. But first, let's go round up the survivors of Novac. I can take them somewhere safe, but I will need your help. But first, let's get the new Big Brother a new set of clothes. That loincloth you're wearing is ready to fall apart. As as bad as I look, a ghoul in your condition would have to be worse."

It was hard to tell what Big Brother was thinking, what with his withered face.


End file.
